


When I Wake...

by directorfaden



Category: Mafia (Video Games)
Genre: Comatose recovery, Grief/Mourning, Lincoln and Donovan are in love, M/M, Mention of Death, No you can’t change my mind, Sharing a Bed, this is my first work in the fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/directorfaden/pseuds/directorfaden
Summary: Lincoln wakes to an unbearable pain and an unexpected companion.
Relationships: Lincoln Clay/John Donovan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	When I Wake...

Lincoln woke with a start, a dull pain throbbing behind his eyes and his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. As his brain came to the slow realization that he was awake, still alive and kicking, panic began to rise. He had been **shot**...in the _head_.

**_“You shouldn’t have said no.”_ **

Giorgi’s words bounced off the walls along with the gunshot that followed. Then it all came flooding back to him. Sammy had been executed right in front of him, Danny had been shot at point blank range and Ellis... _god, Ellis_...had been stabbed to death. The longer he was awake the more vivid it all became and red hot fury took the place of the blood in his veins. Before he knew it there were two twin streams of tears running down his face and his fingers gripped the bedsheets underneath him. Just as his mind was fixing to dive off the deep end a shift of movement to his left brought it to a screeching halt. 

Confusion replaced the panic as John’s soft blonde hair came into view. He was passed out, his forehead sheeted with sweat and a troubled grimace on his face even as he slept. The CIA agent was practically laying on top of him, one arm thrown over his chest and his head nestled between his neck and shoulder. Lincoln’s own arm had curled around him, holding him close, a fact he hadn’t noticed until now. 

A hazy memory played in his head: him lying injured in the very same bed holding him now, Father James standing over him with a look of horror and grief and his own broken words. _“Call...call John, John Donovan.”_

Lincoln was surprised to see that Father James had obliged him, that was the only explanation as to why Donovan was here now. Curled up around him in his bed, just how they used to in their tents back on the islands. Lincoln knew that the protest would have taken issue with them sharing such a personal space, but he also knew that Donovan would be the first to tell him to shut the fuck up. He’d always been bold that way. 

Before Lincoln knew it more tears had blurred his vision and a sob managed to escape him, unfortunately that sound was enough to wake the man on his chest. John stirred and frowned deeper as Lincoln quickly wiped at the moisture coating his cheeks, a futile attempted to mask his pain. His eyes lowered just in time to meet Donovan’s as his lifted and joyful realization settled upon his features. He longed to return the joy but all that would come forth was grief, pure and raw grief. 

John understood immediately and sat up, one hand rising to cup his face. He thumbed away his tears and provided a relieved but dull smile. “Good to see you’re still alive. You know...I find it pretty ironic that you survived all that shit in ‘Nam without a so much as a scratch, but the _first_ thing you do when you get home is get shot.”

His sudden bluntness threw Lincoln off for a second but also earned a startled but authentic chuckle. “Just my luck I guess.” He responded softly, his smile fading with each passing second.

Donovan’s presence was like a light in the dark, blocking out the shadows with its radiance...but no amount of light could brighten his world. A world where the only family he had ever known had been taken from him, leaving him with nothing and no one else. He was grateful for John and had a feeling that gratitude would only grow in time...but his attempts at comfort were like putting a small bandage over a gunshot wound. 

“Hey...look at me.”

Lincoln cursed silently as more tears spilled over and took a moment to give into Donovan’s request. Brown eyes met blue and John lifted himself higher so their lips could brush over one another. The kiss was soft, sweet and oozing with sympathy but it made all the difference. Once they parted he chased after him, stealing another kiss but holding it longer as if John’s kisses could heal the fresh wounds inflicted upon him. 

Donovan broke it off once more to give him a reassuring glance, taking his hand and squeezing it with a tender firmness. “The padre told me what he knew and I assume you’re going to tell me the rest. Not right now, but when you’re ready. I can promise you this right here and now Clay, the fuckers who did this...they’re gonna **_pay_** for it. We won’t let them get away with it, **_I_** won’t let them get away with it.”

There was a wild _fire_ burning in those crystal blue eyes and Lincoln knew every word spoken was dripping in truth. His chest ached with an emotion he couldn’t quite place and when he couldn’t find any words to speak, he merely pulled John closer to him. The blonde returned to his previous position, laying against his chest with his arm cradling him. Lincoln let his face press into Donovan’s hair, savoring the combined smell of cigarettes and cologne. 

As his eyelids began to droop, weighed with exhaustion, he heard John’s voice again softly whispering, “Rest now, we’ll figure all this out in the morning.”

Lincoln was more than happy to oblige. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two. That is all. Expect more in the near future <3
> 
> Thanks for reading. Feedback is always welcome and greatly appreciated!!!


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